


Sometimes Lost (March 2011)

by escritoireazul



Series: Tied Up in Strings [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-17
Updated: 2011-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-17 01:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/171441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escritoireazul/pseuds/escritoireazul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brittany looks so sad where she sits on the piano, and Rachel cannot bring herself to walk away and leave her alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes Lost (March 2011)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for: A moment in "Original Song" where I went, wait, what? How does she even know about that? And then I decided this was how. Set between "Sexy" and "Original Song."
> 
> Author's Note: This is a transformative work of fiction for the television show Glee. It is the second in a series about the mass polyamorous relationship the senior members of glee club formed by senior year. I played pretty fast and loose with their ages, but so does the show, so I don't feel bad. Title from "My Headband" by Rachel Berry.

_March 2011_

Rachel cannot say exactly what makes her stop by the choir room before she leaves school. Perhaps she is so deeply in tune with the flow of life around her that even the slightest hint alerts her to the fact that something in her world has changed. Perhaps she is psychic. (That would, she thinks, be useful, but potentially horrifying as well. She does so hope she is not psychic.)

Whatever it is, she _does_ stop by the choir room, and she finds Brittany sitting cross-legged on the piano, her hair falling over her face and her chin in her hands. Almost Rachel slips silently out of the room, because no matter how she craves the spotlight, she knows too well how to disappear.

But there is something horribly wrong in the slump of Brittany’s shoulders. She’s so happy, generally, and happy-go-lucky. True, she lives in her own world, a world where Santa is real, but is that so wrong? Rachel Berry believes in dreams coming true. How different is that than believing in holiday wishes?

She hasn’t made a sound, but Brittany looks up anyway. Her eyes are luminous, shining with unshed tears and the horrible shadow of loneliness Rachel knows so well. She clutches her bag and flashes her teeth in a wide, bright stage smile.

“Hello, Brittany,” she says. It is a struggle to keep her voice cheerful -- her heart aches for Finn, and writing a song is _far_ more difficult than she ever imagined -- but she perseveres, because the role of friend is one she so dearly wants to play. “Do you have plans for this evening?”

Brittany shakes her head. “Santana,” she says, and then looks down. “I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do.”

Rachel lifts her chin and briskly crosses the room. She takes one of Brittany’s hands and holds it tight. “I am writing a song,” she says. “Would you like to hear it?”

There is a moment where Rachel waits for Brittany to jerk away and Santana to appear with sharp words on her tongue, but it passes and Brittany nods. Rachel guides her off the piano, and they sit side by side on the bench.

“Now, this was an early attempt. I call it ‘My Headband.’” Her voice shakes a little, remembering Finn’s expression and how much it hurt to hold her creation out to him and have it shattered. She curls her fingers on the keys, allowing herself a moment of peace, and then she begins.

It is a little strange, sitting so close to someone else while she accompanies herself. She has played and sang together many times, of course, while her fathers sit together across the room and hold hands and beam at her accomplishments. Brittany is very close, so close sometimes when she moves her hair brushes against Rachel’s skin. She sways a little, back and forth, while Rachel sings, and when she’s done, her hands still on the piano, Brittany grabs her arm and holds her tight.

“Please sing it again?” she asks, and the loneliness is gone, and her tears. Rachel is overwhelmed by the brilliance of her smile, and though it is difficult to perform with Brittany pressed against her side, she obliges. Brittany sings along this time, a low counter melody that sends a chill down Rachel's back.

When she’s done, she turns to ask Brittany what she likes about it, or perhaps if she wants to hear the song she’s writing now, about being an only child, but she forgets everything she might have said because Brittany is right there, so close Rachel can smell her perfume and the blueberry scent of her chapstick.

“Your song is fun,” Brittany says, and then she kisses Rachel.

 _Oh._

For a second, Rachel cannot help herself and kisses back. It has been a long time since she has kissed anyone, and Brittany’s lips are slick and soft, her tongue agile, and her kiss a delight. But Rachel has had enough of cheating. She places her hands on Brittany’s shoulders and gently pushes her away.

“We can’t,” she says.

“Don’t you like kissing?”

Her laugh catches a little in the back of her throat. “Yes,” she says, her voice wry. “I like it very much.”

“Good.” Brittany leans forward again, and Rachel slips off the bench, skirting around the piano to put some space between them. Making out with Brittany in the choir room sounds like a wonderful idea, but she knows it is not. She will not become that horrible person again, tearing down her friends just because she might get what she wants. She and Artie and she and Santana aren't exactly friends, but they are close enough, and Rachel does not have such a plethora of options that she can continue to make such terrible mistakes when it comes to the few she has.

“We can’t,” Rachel says again. “You are dating,” for a moment, she hesitates, because she has been so caught up in Finn and Quinn and this need to write original songs for Regionals -- because just as she knew she needed to come to the choir room, she knows they need to perform their own music and their own words -- that she is not certain if Brittany is dating Artie or Santana or, perhaps, both, “Artie.” Before she can add Santana, Brittany beams at her.

“Yes, but it’s not cheating because the plumbing’s different.” The corner of her mouth wavers. “Santana told me that.”

“Oh, no. No, no, no.” Rachel draws herself up as tall as she can, righteous indignation empowering her. “Brittany, no, it’s still cheating if you both don’t consent to a non-monogamous relationship.” That goes right over Brittany’s head, and she tries again. “To say it’s not cheating because you’re kissing a girl complete devalues the reality and power and truth of Sapphic love.”

Brittany tilts her head, still smiling. One more time.

“Do you love Artie?” she asks. Brittany nods. “Do you love Santana?” She nods again. “So both Artie and Santana are important to you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Believing it isn’t cheating to kiss Santana means she isn’t important to you. It means she doesn’t count because she’s a girl. Do you understand what I’m saying?” She twists her fingers together, frustrated by her inability to adequately communicate what she is trying to say.

“Kind of?” Brittany says, her voice lifting. “Not really.”

“Kissing Santana means something to you,” she says. “Don’t treat it like it’s nothing.”

Brittany nods a little, jerkily, and she’s starting to look sad and lonely again. Rachel’s heart aches for her, and for her own loneliness. She returns to the bench and wraps her arms around Brittany, hugging her tight.

“Do you want to sing it again?” she asks, her voice oh so gentle. Brittany nods against her shoulder, blonde hair spilling silky across Rachel’s neck, and together they turn to the piano, their voices rising in perfect -- if temporary -- harmony.


End file.
